Ashes and Cinder
by M. Chanson
Summary: Harry Potter with a Cinderella twist. Harry really does not know why his fairy godbrother is so insistent on making him go to the ball, but with gorgeous Princess Ginny there, he is not complaining. Meanwhile, Fred and George work to break out a wrongly imprisoned Black while Bill and Charlie attempt just the opposite. Ships include Perciver, Hinny, Romione and Lurolf.


Like all other stories before it;

It began with a pretty stable couple, Mr and Mrs Potter, who gave birth to a beautiful baby with green eyes and dark bangs of hair that were just all over the place. His parents cherished him and they lived happily ever after.

Not. Ha! Bitch, you thought.  
His parents were brutally murdered when he was a one year old. His fairy godfather was the one whom his parents had arranged for him to move in with should anything happen to them. However, it also happened that Harry's fairy god dad was the reason his parents were dead, so they threw him in prison and had no choice but to leave Harry with his only living blood relative, his mother's sister, Petunia Dursley.

And so little Harry Potter grew up with the Dursleys. The Dursleys had gotten all the Potters' money after Harry had moved in with them, but they had never used it on him and instead kept it saved for their own personal advantage. Little Harry Potter grew up with nothing but the rags he wore and his dirty old wooden shoes. The green eyed child was bright and upbeat, but alas the Dursleys constantly beat his innocent enthusiam down. He was made to clean their home and do all the nasty work, treated quite like a servant and not an adopted child. All day and night, Harry was made to clean, sweep, dust and serve. This went on for several years.

On a dreary Tuesday morning our story starts; little Harry, who was not quite as little now at seventeen, was busy scrubbing Aunt Petunia'a rather vile dress. It was the colour of old salmon; grey and rather sickening. That women had absolutely no taste, he thought to himself as he worked out the frills of the dress.

"Boy!"

Harry jolted in his seat, his eyes flitting toward his Uncle nervously. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon grunted in acknowledgement. "Petunia needs fruits from the local market, get up and get ready."

Harry nodded without argument, carefully folding his aunt's hideous dress and letting it down. His uncle reluctantly handed him a bag of silver, eyeing him suspiciously.

"If I ever find out you've been using any of this for anything but purchasing what I've asked you-"

"I won't," Harry said. There was a time when his Uncle's threats would make him gulp and shiver, but Harry was far past that. Now it was just a common occurence. He took every threat to heart, but couldn't conjure any emotions to prove it anymore. Vernon grumbled and shooed him away.

Tattered and thin, Harry left the Dursley property with a bag of silver coins cradled in one palm, and a hood covering his messy hair and eyes, for it was rather cold out.

Though it was cold, it was also very busy, and everyone in town appeared to have been shopping; perhaps because of the approaching season.

Harry could easily spot the fruit market a few yards ahead; he knew his Aunt was short on strawberries, her little Dinky Duddidum's favourite, and also needed another variety of fruits which would be harder to come by as the winter approached. The clank of his wooden shoes was defeated by the hundreds of pairs of feet stomping and gliding and rushing on the wet floors.

Harry was so lost in thought and set on his mission that when an arm grabbed him, he nearly jumped a foot in the air in surprise. A rough, large hand was wrapped firmly around his thin arm, the one clasping the bag of silver. Harry was frozen in shock and horror, still processing what was happening and unable to wriggle out of the unknown person's grip. The arm wrenched him and brought him closer to its owner; people walked by at their normal pace. Harry struggled, but to no avail; he was considering kicking the bloke in his grapes when the glowering dark green eyes fell on his bag of silver.

Oh no.  
No.  
Uncle Vernon would give him what it's worth if he lost his money to a common burglar.

"Oi!" The man froze, and then let go of Harry as if he were struck by lighting, taking several steps backwards. He sputtered and gave the owner of the new voice a hard look before quickly moving away and disappearing through the crowd.

Harry's breath of relief seemed to wreck his entire body. He turned to look at his saviour gratefully; it was a boy who looked about his age, but was tall; far taller than any boy his age should be, Harry knew, though he was probably not the best judge seeing as he himself was shorter than the average for seventeen. Aside from height, the boy had neck length red hair which seemed to be aflame in the morning sun, and bright blue eyes. He had been glaring daggers at the burglar, but his expression eased into a friendly grin at the sight of Harry. He winked.

Before Harry could so much as open his mouth to thank the redhead, the moment Harry had blinked his eyes, he was gone. Puzzled but relieved enough not to question his luck, Harry continued heading toward the store with a certain cautiousness.

In line at the fruit stand was a young maiden- he couldn't make out her features as she, too, was hooded. But she gave him a charming smile as he stepped into line beside her, and he could make out a few locks of red hair streaming past the hood and down her shoulders. Yet another mysterious red head who acted pleasantly towards him; Harry was surprised, and a little warmed dispite the chill.

"Hello," the girl said, seemingly tilting her head to the side.

"Hello," Harry greeted pleasantly, offering her a hesitant smile.

"I've seen that you've had some trouble back there," she said apologetically, and Harry flushed with embarrassment. "I'd have helped, I really would, but my brother beat me to it." She peered up at him, and Harry half expected to see eyes as blue as those of the boy he'd spotted only moments earlier. But hers were a soft brown in colour, pouring with determination and a detectable hint of fiery pride.

"He was your brother, then?" He found himself asking. "Do thank him for me. He didn't have to, and neither did you, but that was very decent of him."

Her lips twitched upwards in a smile. "He does have his moments, I suppose- and it his kind of his responsibility. But we're all obligated to help one another. I have a feeling you'd have done the same for us." Harry didn't argue that. He was physically rather frail, but his determination and vigor more than made up for it.

"I'm Ginny, by the way," she said, her voice rather quiet. It startled Harry a bit; he didn't take her to be the quiet type, but she didn't seem to want to raise her voice more than necessary. Her eyes spoke volumes of her, told the story of a young girl filled with passion and wit; yet here she was, soft spoken as if handing a secret.

Ginny. What a beautiful name.

Harry meant to give Ginny his name, but the couple ahead of them shuffled and moved forwards, drawing his attention for half a moment. Once he turned to address Ginny, she had all but melted into the crowd; now farther away, the girl flashed him a smile, and with a whip of her cloak, melded with the commoners of the town like a rain drop slipping down glass to join a puddle of water.

Huh. What was it with red heads and mysterious disappearances? Harry guessed Ginny wasn't there to purchase fruit after all. He turned back to the merchant in front if him, hoping he wouldn't disappear as well. Aunt Petunia would go nuts.


End file.
